Anger is easy. It's simple. It's comfortable. It's familiar.
Too familiar- for both of them. Matt, who has no temper to speak of at all, and Mello, who will blow up at the slightest provocation, both know the feeling very well- what happens, and how it is resolved.
It's simple, comfortable, familiar, but not at all pleasant- for either of them.
For Mello, anger is a way to let off steam. It is something that saves him from internal pain. However, most of the time, he needs to be drunk before it takes effect. Matt has told him time and time again that it's the alcohol doing the work, not the emotions, but Mello never listens. He says this mostly to save himself, but Mello never remembers anything, so he would have no reason to listen.
For Matt, when Mello gets angry, he knows he will feel pain, and whether or not he is actually the cause of the anger is irrelevant. He will be the one to pay for it.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
When the door slams open and the picture they'd hung the day before falls to the floor and shatters, Matt can't even bring himself to be upset about it. He panics and saves his game quickly, stuffing it under the couch. When Mello's like this, he destroys whatever game Matt's playing at the time without mercy. Usually, the next morning, Matt has to buy himself a new one; even though he figures Mello should be the one buying it.
He comes storming in, a blur of black leather, blond hair, flashing blue eyes, a bright silver gun, and yelling. Lots and lots of yelling. It's incomprehensible, but Matt gets the gist of it. Someone- one of his subordinates at work- made some sort of idiotic move that cost them millions. Apparently. He could never quite tell with his boyfriend, what it was exactly that made him so mad. As far as he knew, it could have just been that they ran out of chocolate.
Still, Matt smells the liquor on the leather-clad blond, and winces internally. If he can smell it across the room, he knows Mello must be shit-faced.
In the next moment, Matt's head connects to the wall harshly, his red hair falling into his eyes as his body curls inward from the impact. Through gold-tinted, goggle-clad green eyes, he watches his boyfriend's facial expressions carefully. He'd always had a high EQ, but tonight, he has no idea what the blond might be thinking. His eyes are narrowed, his mouth set in a thin line.
Matt has all of three seconds to register all of this before he sees stars. Mello had punched him right in the face- he already feels the bruise blossoming across his right cheek. He doesn't have time to recover before Mello's fist slams into his abdomen- right over a wound from three days before that hadn't healed yet.
Against his will, he lets out a cry, the noise echoing in their small, cramped living room. Mello's eyes narrow further, and he draws his lips back in a snarl. "Did I say you could talk, bitch?" he growls, surprisingly clear- as always- when he was drunk.
Clamping his mouth and eyes tightly shut, Matt shakes his head vigorously, stopping when Mello's hand clamps tightly over his jaw. "I thought not," Mello whispers, dangerously close. Matt can almost taste the whiskey. The smell is sure strong enough- he'd drunk at least four full bottles. Then he can taste it, because Mello seals his mouth over Matt's, forcing his tongue into Matt's mouth. Before he can stop himself, Matt groans, pressing closer. But Mello pulls away, letting Matt fall to the floor.
The pain shoots up his spine and through the rest of his body. Before he can curl up, Mello is right there again, tugging hard on Matt's thick red locks. He doesn't kiss him, and instead drags his sharp nails down Matt's chest from underneath his striped shirt. It hurts, as it always does. He draws a sharp breath, but takes care not to make a sound. Then Mello is gone, and he can see the blond disappear into the kitchen.
Sighing in relief, he rises onto shaky legs and follows, knowing that Mello will only get worse if he doesn't. The younger man is there; against the counter will a chocolate bar in his mouth and a knife in hand. Matt blinks at it, slowly, not comprehending the meaning of it in his shock. He glances up at his boyfriend and freezes. When had he gotten so much closer?
Mello grins at him, bringing the knife up to his cheek and dragging it across to his nose. He can feel the blood running down his face, hot and sticky, and he figures that once Mello passes out- which shouldn't be long, thank God- he will have to got to the local Urgent Care to get stitched up. Or maybe he could just do it himself. That would probably mean infection, though.
In the morning, he wonders what Mello will think. He never remembers hurting Matt, and Matt never tells him, because he knows it would destroy him. When Mello is sane, sober, he practically begs for Matt to be the one to hold him, to be dominating. But the roles reverse when Mello drinks.
That sadistic smile is still there, still mocking him when Mello brings the knife across the bridge of his nose again. At this point, Matt knows that, should the blond continue, he might cut off his nose. So, with that thought, he reaches up and punches Mello, hard, in the side of his head. His boyfriend drops lick a stone, the knife clattering across the kitchen floor that is in desperate need of a clean. Matt catches him as he falls, and lifts him into his arms. He sighs as he walks to the bedroom, laying the unconscious young man on their full sized bed as gently as he can. Then he bolts for the bathroom, having trailed blood all over the apartment.
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When Mello wakes the following morning, the first thing he notices is the harsh pain in his head. He groans and rolls over to Matt's side of the bed, only to find the sheets cold. His eyes open with a snap, and he suddenly doesn't have much of a hangover. He sits up quickly, out of the bed and into the hall within a few seconds. He searches the apartment for any sign of the redhead, but he is not there. The thing that brings Mello relief, however, is that all of Matt's equipment and games are still in their temporary home. Clothes and other belongings mean little to the gamer- if the electronics were gone, then Matt would have no intention of coming back.
It's only when Mello reaches the kitchen that he realizes that Matt might be out of the apartment for a reason. There is a bloodied kitchen knife on the floor, below the table. Mello can feel his eyes widen, and he rushes over to the phone, dialing Matt's cell phone number as fast as he can. He picks up on the fourth ring.
"Hello? Mello?" he asks, voice weary. "You sober yet?"
Confused, but no longer panicking like before, Mello replies, "Yes, I'm sober. Matt, where are you? Where have you been all night?"
For a minute, there is silence. Then Matt replies, "I've been in the urgent care, getting stitches."
A crease forms between Mello's eyebrows. "What do you need stitches for? How did you get hurt? Does it have something to do with the bloody knife on the kitchen floor?"
He hears Matt swearing profoundly under his breath as soon as the last question is out of Mello's mouth. The Matt sighs, and says slowly, "I needed stitches for my nose. It was nearly cut off at the bridge between my eyes last night. I just got out, I have the stitches and paid for them with the cigarette fund for the week. They'll take them out in six weeks," he finishes.
Mello takes a moment to consider this new information. Then, "How was your nose nearly cut off?" he asks, a sinking feeling in his gut. He's afraid he already knows the answer. He's not stupid, he's not blind, and though Matt does a wonderful job at hiding it, he can see the bruises and small cuts and scars that pepper his lover's skin the morning after he goes drinking. Matt has never told him what kind of drunk he is, and, usually, he gets so drunk that he doesn't recall, himself. He has a feeling that he's violent, though.
The extremely quiet answer in the affirmative to his own thoughts answers his questions. The sinking feeling in his gut gets worse, and he suddenly doesn't know what to think, what to feel.
"Come home," is all he says. "Come home, please."
Matt says that he's already outside the apartment and that it'll just be a second before they hang up. Sure enough, true to his word, Matt steps into the apartment a moment later, and Mello is back down the hall to survey the damage.
Matt is in the same clothes he usually wears- a black and white striped shirt, blue jeans, boots, and a chain hanging from his belt. His goggles are on his head, revealing his emerald green eyes. There are bandages across his nose and around his head. Mello guesses that he was concussed. Matt's left eye is black and blue, and Mello can feel the regret, sadness, and self-loathing consume him almost immediately.
His partner must see this- they've known each other far too long- because Matt steps forward and wraps his arms around Mello, tucking the blond's head under his chin. Mello feels the guilt join in when Matt does this- the redhead always forgives him and puts his needs before his own- the depleted cigarette fund being a prime example. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on?" he asks, suddenly furious.
Matt doesn't let him go. He just runs his fingers through Mello's blond hair gently and says in response, "I knew it would hurt you."
"That's the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard!" Mello cries, pulling away. "My god, Matt, really! You're getting hurt because of me! You should've said something! Please, don't keep things like this a secret," he adds, reaching once more for Matt, this time just twining their fingers together. "I don't care about myself being hurt by it, just don't let things get this far. You should've known I would find out someday, anyway."
Matt sighs once again. "You're stressed out enough already. I couldn't have burdened you with something like this. If getting drunk is what helps you, then so be it, I can handle it-!"
"No!" Mello snarls. "I'm not going to stand for you getting hurt because of me. I won't. I'll find some other way to cope. But I'm not going to hurt you again."
It stings to see the relief in Matt's green eyes.